


A Long Road Ahead

by thebigbengal



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, Twin Peaks Season/Series 02-03 Hiatus, fishing trip!, harry being a good god parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 03:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13778988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebigbengal/pseuds/thebigbengal
Summary: As kids growing up in Twin Peaks, Wally and Becky have much to learn, both about their town and themselves.





	A Long Road Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> A semi-chronicle of the adolescences Andy and Lucy's son Wally, and Shelly and Bobby's daughter Becky, whom I have written to have grown up together, being kids of the local deputies and all. This may or may not lead to a time jump to post season 3, depending on where this goes. Enjoy the ride!

Low waves pushed pebbles and sand into Becky’s toes, and breezes teased her ponytail and skirt, unfurling her combed hair from the ribbon her mother had so carefully tied. Gray sky bordered by mountains of deep green on the horizon, which on a sunnier day would make graceful reflections on the river but, today, sat idly above the black water. Becky sighed and looked to the wharf where Sheriff Truman was showing Wally Brennan the proper technique for holding a fishing rod. Becky picked up her shoes and walked over, her impatience clear in her steps and grunts. “You said we’d be doing something fun.”

“This _is_ fun, Becky!” Declared Truman. “Why don’t you pick up a rod? I brought three. Who knows, maybe you’ll hook the Catch of the Day!”

Truman’s cheerfulness did the opposite of convince her. Friday off from school for the first time in forever, and he promised his god-children something special and entertaining for the morning and evening, something they could take home and ruminate on for years and years. A long walk through the woods and down to the beach at six o’clock; putrid bait, rubber boots, and fishing rods on hand, all on a dull day, was not part of Becky’s vision. The one thing that aggravated her worse than Truman’s cheer was Wally’s, if not for having no one to share her disappointment with. The whole time, walking with a little bounce in his step, though that was nothing new for him. He may be generally shy around others, but once he opens up, you'll never be able to shake the sunshine off your clothes. How he could be so giddy most of the time perplexed Becky. It took a lot out of her just to fake a smile, yet Wally spoke with a great deal of sincerity, far more than you could ever ask of a ten year old boy.

Wally glimmered with excitement, “Yeah! Give it a go!”

Becky sighed once more. “My skirt could get wet. And it’s more of a _boy_ thing, really.”

Wally, stubborn in his enthusiasm, widened his grin, “I don’t think the fish can tell the difference.” Truman laughed from his belly and ruffled the boy’s hair, then picked up the fishing rod, which Becky begrudgingly took. She started to shuffle through memories of all the things she wouldn’t have tried out had Wally not dug in his feet. Weird foods, tree climbing, 1000 piece jigsaw puzzles, old black-and-white movies, the diving board at the YMCA. Nothing truly harmful or anything Wally wouldn’t take full responsibility for had that been the case, but to someone just as stubborn as Becky, doing something she didn’t feel like was just as torturous as removing an appendix with a fork. Still, she couldn’t deny, her diving form has improved monumentally and fruit loop, watercress and peanut butter bagel sandwiches make an… okay snack.

Becky searched for a good grip on the pole, a little heavier than expected. After watching her for a solid minute, Truman gently took the rod from her hands, “Here, let me show you first. I’ve already got the worm on, so you don’t have to do that yet.” He adjusted his elbows and pointed out where each finger should be, Wally chiming in to confirm and add additional points. Now, all she wanted to do was snatch that rod away and fish til her heart was content, just to shut them up. Truman tossed the line out, “Now, normally you’d whip the pole, but only when no one else is nearby. Don’t want to hook anybody by accident,” and positioned the rod on the railing for Becky to take over, “And when you feel a tug, just turn the nob and reel it in. If it’s a big one and putting up a fight, turn it the other way to put more line out, then catch him by surprise and reel it in. Do that as much as you have to. And remember, keep a tight grip!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Becky squeezed the pole in her fists, while Truman picked up his own rod and stood beside her. The river fell silent, their lines bobbing softly. Minutes passed, and no one’s lines were pulled in or out. Wally and Truman stared ahead, lost in thought, while Becky struggled to make the time pass with her own thoughts, which ranged from “This is boring,” to, “This is **really** boring.” She hopped in place, and voiced her frustration. “Where are all the stupid fish?”

“In the water, Becky.” Replied Wally.

“You’re not funny.”

“Just be patient, you two.” said Truman, “This is what I meant when I said you’d be taking this home. It’s a lesson in patience the good ol’ fashion way. My dad took my brother and I out at your age, and I felt the same way as you did, Becky. But with time-”

“If I wanted to learn something, I’d be at school right now.”

“Sometimes you can learn more from what’s outside of school.” Said, Wally.

Truman nodded, “You should listen to Wally sometime, Becky.” She felt the blood rush through her skull so fast, an artery might pop. She puffed her cheeks and tightened her grip to the point that if the rod was alive, it’d be begging her to slack off. Still, more time passed at molasses pace with no activity, until a baby tug of Truman’s line sprung him to action.

“Now watch closely!” He pulled the rod with methodical precision, judging the weight and size of the fish on the other end. “Oh, this is big one! He’ll start retaliating in just a second.” Sure enough, it yanked the wire out to straight, tense line that could cut flesh. Truman released the spindle, allowing it to fall, then quickly spun it the other way. He repeated this a second time, until a large rainbow trout came flopping out of the water and into Truman’s hands. “Look at this beauty!” Wally and Becky dropped their rods to admire the trophy. Colorful scales, and efficiently detailed fins fanning back and forth in protest of the Sheriff’s grasp. Becky looked into its bulging eye, then moved down to his gaping mouth and starved gills; her sudden wonder completely diminished. She gulped down while Truman reached for the cooler lid.

“Can’t we let it go?” Truman stopped in place, Wally freezing with him. A look of slight confusion crossed his face, and he glanced from Becky to the trout, like the thought hadn’t reared its head to him in years. Wally turned to Becky, fascinated by her suggestion.

Truman shrugged, “Yeah, I suppose we can. I thought you two might want to have it for dinner?” Becky frowned. Wally hadn’t looked away from her. “Alright, maybe some other time then? How ‘bout we hit the Double R instead?” The children agreed in unison. Truman unhooked the trout and dropped it over the railing, vanishing into the river’s depths. He sat back and decided to let the novices have their go on their own. He opened a thermos of hot coffee and poured himself a cup.

Wally and Becky, now a little more attentive to her rod, stood with the river plain in view, Wally glancing over to her every so often. At last, she felt a tug, and mimicking Truman, pulled on it to feel for size. It wasn’t much, so she could easily turn the spindle and reel in her catch, revealing a much smaller trout. Nevertheless, she glowed in pride and hung it overhead for the other two to see. “Look, look I got one!”

“Very good, Becky!” Harry gave her a high-five and analyzed the catch. Wally stood still by the railing, but equally as entranced, even more so when she delicately unhooked the trout’s lip and tossed it back to the water. She noticed him, and returned his smile with her own. The next catch, going to Wally, would end the same, the boy gently releasing a salmon from his grip. The morning went on like this, catch and release, with Harry relaxing on the bench with his coffee, and sometimes getting up to aid either of the kids if reeling in a fish proved too difficult on their own.

“Hey Wally, this one looks just like you!”

“You think so? Now this one looks like _you_!”

“No way! That’s Richard.”

“Oh yeah!”

“Ugly like him, too.”

“Alright, cut that out, the both of ya.” Chimed Truman. The two giggled and released their fishes. Thrilled, they flashed each other a thumbs-up. Truman gently smiled and sipped his coffee.

Black, just the way he likes it.

Things became more lively in the river, which was just as Truman had hoped when he picked out the area. “This was Pete’s favorite spot. Always delivered.”

“Mrs. Martell’s husband?” asked Wally.

“Yup. Catherine. That was… that was a long time ago. Before you two were even born. You’d give Pete a run for his money with all fish you’ve been reeling in.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t _that_ long ago.” Replied Becky.

“No… but it sure feels like it. Sure does…” Truman trailed off, glancing down the beach at a fallen tree log just by the water’s edge, then returned to his coffee. Wally and Becky didn’t prod. The time before their births, a specific time frame, was something often left untouched by either their curious minds, no matter how much it killed them to keep distance. Andy and Lucy, Wally’s parents, were usually more open to discussion on the matter, though selective of language and details.

“It’s better to tell you when you get older.” They’d say. Wally accepted this without question. Becky was less happy to hear it, but complied.

Noon struck, and stomach growling broke the quiet air. They put down their rods, wrapped up the bate, and towed all of their supplies behind them down the beach path. Shelly, Becky’s mother, was on the clock today, so she’d know exactly what they’d order before they could get a word out. Becky felt the need to be peeved on principal alone, that she found herself far more satisfied with her day than expected, but the wide grins on Wally and Truman took that away, and instead she picked up Wally’s stepping bounce and carried it to the diner, then all the way home.


End file.
